Home
by Viv1
Summary: After she loses Nathan's protection, Claire is free to run back to the only person who's ever made her feel safe. AU after 3.17.
1. Chapter 1

_Title: "Home"  
Rating: PG-13  
Word Count: 2,642  
Characters: Peter/Claire (canon), Claire/Alex (implied)  
Summary: After she loses Nathan's protection, Claire is free to run back to the only person who's ever made her feel safe.  
Spoilers: AU after 3.17  
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, just borrowing from NBC and Tim Kring. I am not profiting financially from this. Please don't sue!  
Author's Notes: Written after 3.17; my version of what Claire might have done after helping Alex at the comic book store. _

**"Home"  
by Viv**

She misses Peter.

Although if anyone asked, Claire wouldn't be able to say what precisely she misses about him.

Maybe she misses his idealism; his obstinacy against the odds. Or maybe she misses the child-like innocence that sometimes plays across his features even in the solemnest of moments.

Or maybe it's his love of hot dogs, or appreciation of art and beauty in the most unlikeliest of places; or his knack of lightening the mood whenever things get too tense and unbearable.

Most likely it's all of the above.

She likes to think a part of that could have rubbed off onto her if their lives had intersected more; if she'd been allowed to know Peter as a friend (and uncle) for real. But as it is, she's only seen him a handful of times since those New York halcyon days, when they'd talked of flying and Superman and wearing underpants on the outside.

More than anything else, she misses the kid she'd been, with him.

She misses the girl who'd jumped onto his back and asked for a piggy back _just because_; misses the giggle that bubbles from somewhere near her diaphragm and erupts at a joke he makes or a goofy expression he pulls. Misses the simplicity of thinking of something other than life and death and rebels and rescues and being on the run; thinks that it's aged her way before her time.

She's 17 but her real age is indeterminate. Age is only a number when fighting a war she hasn't asked for.

Peter's been forced to go on the run from their own government and the whole thing is, as Alex says, royally and epically fucked up. Her two fathers are hunting Peter, Matt, Mohinder and the others like animals, turning law abiding citizens into fugitives. Up is down and down is up and when the Hunter shows up one day on her motel doorstep with tasers and team at the ready, she knows Nathan's lost his influence on the hill for good.

So she does what she does best, and runs. But Claire isn't scared; she has no fear of being caught.

Because it's her chance to run back to him. She'd left him in the middle of nowhere running for his life and it seems only appropriate she runs back to him now. He's the only one who's ever understood her, made her feel like she isn't alone in the universe. With Peter, she doesn't feel like a freak but a perfectly normal girl.

After all, she's only ever wanted to be normal.

* * * * *

It takes only a few weeks, but she works out why she likes Alex so much; had liked him even from moment she had first laid eyes on him.

He's smart, sensitive, trusting, caring; a dreamer. In short, he's Peter as a younger man, albeit one who can breathe underwater (which is all sorts of cool, in a freaky, awesome way).

She discovers how their emotions play off each like two counterpoints in a melody. Everything they do resonates and it isn't just that she's attracted to the way he looks (because let's face it, he's about seven different kinds of hot) but in a way, he reminds her of both Peter and Zach, an amalgam of cool and geek and excitement and idealism all rolled into one athletic, slightly short sighted package.

The fact that he has a hidden ability of his own only emphasises their bond.

So yeah, she isn't afraid to admit that a part of why she likes spending time with Alex is that he reminds her of people and happier times gone by. Except she's moved on and the roles have changed; she's the hero in this scenario and he the cheerleader because she no longer needs to be rescued. She's the one who showed up into his perfectly normal life unannounced and plunged it into persecution and danger. It's her responsibility now to keep him from being caught and she constantly moves them on, recalling places and names from her dad's files that frankly she's surprised she remembers. Who knew that the cheerleader had a brain?

When she blurts out her thoughts to Alex he only laughs, is far from being offended at the comparison. Kisses her and says she's the only girl in the world who could get him into a cheerleading outfit, not that he would. She'd smiled coyly and teased, _not that he would_, but knew that if she asked, he totally would.

It's funny how close they've become even in a short few weeks.

He's the only thing she regrets when she's forced to run. There's no time to let him know the whys and wherefores, no time to say goodbye; doesn't want to think that she'd seen him for the last time in the dimly lit Las Vegas motel room they'd shared for the last few days.

Claire's not a religious girl but she prays in the days and weeks ahead that Alex will be able work out where she's gone and follow her, or keep himself hidden without her help. She isn't exactly worried about him; he's smart and savvy and a demon with the computer even if he does get distracted by comics, but she needs to know he's safe because she wouldn't be able to run without that knowledge.

Knows that she's made a choice by taking this chance to run away; knows that if she'd wanted to, she could find her way back to Alex and they'd go back to being on the run, together.

But as it is, she chooses. Chooses to run to the only person who's ever made her feel safe, to the person who's never broken a promise to her.

Not like Nathan and certainly, not like her dad.

* * * * *

It doesn't phase Claire at first that she has no idea where Peter is; he's on the run after all. What makes her think she can just up and find him? He's a pinprick in a sea of six billion people and her ability is absolutely no use in this situation.

She knows it could take her a lifetime without help, so she adopts a riskier strategy. She's a girl well accustomed to risk now and this one is the riskiest of them all.

She flatters herself in thinking it's a well calculated one but let's face it; she's brash and pig headed at the best of times and anyone else in her situation would baulk at her plan. But she's still her and it's the best and only plan she has.

Despite the bravado, she's glad when she finds Angela alone in the Petrelli house. Knows she's lucky to not have run into Nathan and even though she's not religious, thinks that maybe God is doing what he can to further their cause.

So she peers through the window, allows her grandmother to see her.

It's a credit to the older lady that she barely reacts seeing a known terrorist and fugitive at her open window.

* * * * *

By subtle signals, Claire understands they're to meet at the bottom of the garden, away from prying eyes. Not that she needed signals to understand the last part.

She waits patiently for Angela there, is happy to put her burden down if only for a while. She's taken a gamble and if it doesn't work, well – it doesn't work.

The garden reminds her of the first time she was in it. Peter had taken her out after they'd first discovered their relation. He'd known, somehow, how incredibly confusing it'd been for her, finding out about Nathan and Meredith and it had helped her a lot to have a friendly face who knew just how hard it was to feel out of place in a world where she supposedly belonged.

To say that Angela is not at all pleased that Claire's in her garden when she's on the run from the law would have been the understatement of the century; but to her grandmother's credit she never utters that one sentence that would have guaranteed Claire's ire.

_You shouldn't have come here. _

They talk, quickly and quietly, indeed away from prying eyes. Angela doesn't know where her other son his but knows people who would know. Warns her to be careful but not for herself; she doesn't want Claire to lead them directly to Peter and anyone he's with.

Claire understands the risk; knows she'll die before betraying Peter like that.

When she bids Angela farewell, Claire thinks it's one of only a handful of times she feels a true kinship with Angela Petrelli. The cold, ruthless empire-building woman evidently still has enough of a heart to care where her other son is, and to make sure he's safe. In a sense.

Despite the bond, Claire's glad to go. Every minute she remains in New York is another minute she doesn't find Peter.


	2. Chapter 2

It takes her a couple of weeks longer than she thought, but Claire tracks him down near New Orleans, hiding in a house on the outskirts of a town that could definitely qualify as nowheresville.

It's hot and sticky as she makes her way up to the door and for some reason, makes her crave Cajun chicken.

Her hand stills, millimetres from the door. She's been so gung-ho about this path until now. But for some reason, reaching this threshold, coming so close to the only person she's ever truly trusted, makes her heart skip a beat.

She wants to knock, but can't. All those weeks on the run, all that planning and anxiety and loneliness. Finding one person in a world of six billion had seemed an impossible task for anyone besides Claire Bennet, but she'd done it.

She'd done it, but now what?

She doesn't know. So she sits on the steps and waits in the oppressive heat for a sign. What precisely it'd take, she doesn't know.

* * * * *

It's just as well the wind had been sucked from her sails, because it turns out Peter isn't home anyway.

She only discovers this when she sees a shadow loom over her, tall and distorted in the blazing afternoon sun.

"Claire?"

It's his tone that makes her look up. It isn't surprise or shock or reproach, but a strange, half-shattered release of emotion that's all too familiar to her. She knows it because it's the strangled sound she makes crying alone in the dark, in those fractured moments of in-between when she can let the frightened teenager reappear, the cheerleader who'd been so complacent about her normal life and feel what her life's become.

She's imagined this moment many times over the past weeks; imagined how strong and she'd be for him. Show Peter how much growing up she's done since their hasty separation; show him that the cheerleader he'd rescued lifetimes ago has become a hero herself and, in turn, was rescuing others.

But instead she can't utter a word; can't even open her mouth. Flies buzz hotly over her face and the glare of the sun should blind her vision, but it doesn't because she can't see anything but him.

"Peter."

She flings herself against him, doesn't realise how much hope she's pinned on the thought of seeing him again until now. Revels in the tightness of his grip and fancies that yeah, he's glad and relieved to see her too.

It's a while before he's able to untangle himself but when he does, asks a really good question.

"Claire, what the hell are you doing here?"

* * * * *

She doesn't mean to sound so broken or frightened, but he has a way of getting under her skin. She's sure it's unconsciously done but somehow it comforts her, that there's at least one person in this world who's capable of getting under her fiery armour without premeditation or thought because that's just the way he is.

Peter sits across the table, patiently watches as she cries her heart out. She hadn't realised until halfway through her gibbering how much stress she'd been under, how lonely she'd been having no one to share her burden with. Alex had been a great listener, but he hadn't known, hadn't gone through what she and Peter and Matt and the others had.

And there hadn't been that spontaneous intimacy she and Peter had shared; that rapport that had made her instantly trust him without question.

He doesn't ask whether she's okay, because he knows they're not. How can they be when their world's been turned upside down until it feels like they're hanging onto the only life they'll ever have by the skin of their teeth?

He doesn't say anything that can be construed as a lie; doesn't make false promises that it's all going to be okay because even he knows it may not be okay. The best they can hope for is to stay alive and to save as many people as they can with the powers they were given.

Claire finds it sad, that the eternal dreamer in him is no more. Sees the hard man he could become if their life continues down the path they've both chosen and been forced onto.

It makes her grieve before her time.

* * * * *

He chuckles when she recounts how she'd found him, having the _stones_ to go to Angela right in the dragon's den. It's the first time the worry disappears off his face and she can't lie; she's relieved her hero can still smile.

"I'd pay a lot to see you forcing her hand like that. No one forces mom to do anything."

And because he's smiling, there's a smile on her face, too.

She offers to wash the dishes in the sink (because let's face it, Peter's her hero but he's also a man) and make them a simple dinner. She'd spent enough years as her mom's disciple in the kitchen to know that anything she serves would be better than what he can conjure.

She hums as she cooks, doesn't know she's doing it until she catches him staring with the most imperceptible of smiles. Considers a retort but bites it back; the simple domesticity is actually a respite from the high stakes game of life and death that's ensnared them both.

It's half way through dinner that he surprises her.

"I missed you, Claire. I'm glad you found me."

The nakedness of his admission disarms her completely. She smiles awkwardly and jokes, yeah, she's sure he's missed how _annoying_ she can be but adds, almost against her will.

"I've missed you too."

There's too much to say; they'll never be finished saying it. So they finish their food in silence.

Afterwards when she's washing the dishes his hand snakes along hers, stilling them. His breath is warm against her face and for a moment, for a crazy, split second of a moment, she thinks –

Well, she doesn't know what she thinks.

His grip on her fingers tighten.

"I'm glad you're here."

"Me too."

"Are you –?"

"I'll stay as long as you can put up with me."

She doesn't need to turn around to see his smile. She can feel it, as sure as she can feel the one spreading across her own face.

For the first time in weeks – months maybe – she feels herself relaxing. It doesn't have anything to do with safety or having enough sleep or food, but something else she'd been missing since those simple days in Odessa.

She can relax and feel safe because she's at home.

She's home, with him.

**Finis**


End file.
